


Impromptu Tango

by Malmignatte



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Blow Jobs, Headcanon, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Teen Mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malmignatte/pseuds/Malmignatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian really wasn't expecting this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impromptu Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Just some PWP, really. I'm sorry.

This isn’t the first time Sebastian Moran has been pushed back into a wall by the small statured brunet. No, the first time was when they were a lot younger—five years ago, was it? Just before Carl Powers had drowned, just before the earth shattered. Five years ago, James had caught him off guard, pushed at him, whispered a low, far too adult threat in his ear; a promise and then he had disappeared.  
They weren’t even teens, and Carl was dead the next day.

It’s also not the first time Jim has had a knife in his hand while doing it. That was closer to the current date, but still two years off. He was trying to educate him, trying to show him anatomy, a cat spread out on the pavement, cut from top to bottom, insides flaunted for the too-lanky blond boy’s benefit. When he turned pale, Jim had threatened him, sick words spilling from his lips, a low drawl. Why can you hurt people and not animals?  
Jim had thoroughly studied the anatomy of many domestic creatures.

And lastly, it’s not the first time they’ve done something blatantly sexual. The first time they did that was a year ago, messy and experimental, with Jim slowly edging in a variety of kinks for the now quite well structured football player. Each time they feasted off the mutual adrenaline, but sometimes the bruises that resulted would be from falling off beds and seats rather than from lips and fingers.  
They’re working on it.

But it’s the first time Jim’s on his knees, lips pressed flush to the contrasting tan line of Sebastian’s skin. His eyelashes—so feminine, Sebastian hadn’t noticed them until the first time their lips and teeth crashed together—are almost against his skin, brushing softly, teasingly. Sebastian’s sure everything the other boy does is to torment him. He’s certain that the exploratory licks and the soft noises he’s making have a single drive.  
Drive him mad.

Even now, tongue drifting up and down his length, his eyebrows raised slightly, lips curved up at the corners despite his open mouth, Sebastian knows that the only reason this maniac is on his knees is because he’s on a mahogany floor, with a crystal chandelier above him and rich red paint stretching over the walls. He and his family (Mother, Father) at some sort of benefit the Moran’s attended annually. And then there was Jim; pulling him out of the party, wearing his good tuxedo to mingle, to become unassuming, to blend in as if he were an actual human being-- and now Sebastian was totally helpless, pressed against a wall in a roped off corridor with someone who he’s fairly sure is totally stark raving mad between his legs.

Oh, and there’s the knife—he has a vague idea, from his anatomy lessons, that it’s pressed to his femoral artery, but he doesn’t really wish to find out. Jim teaches through demonstration, and this lesson could be especially dangerous.

So Sebastian will play the quiet kid at the back of his class, palms pressed flat to the wall because he knows Jim’s fussy about his hair, and head tilted back, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, turning his head to the side.

_Breathe._

The mouth on him is now turning wicked, nipping and biting at the skin around his cock, teeth grazing over the head. It stung, but the pain didn’t last—short bursts, to keep him alert, to stop him from slipping into some hormone-induced bliss and switching out, thoughts drifting and bless the poor soul if they dared drift to someone other than the Irishman. 

Sebastian’s knees buckle slightly as James’ throat constricts, the younger boy pulling off to breathe and recover from gagging-- because not even psychopaths could help choking at least once on their first blowjob-- not that he wasn’t doing a fucking amazing job. In fact, if the blond didn’t have at least some restraint (installed into him by Jim, he wonders if the other boy regrets that) he’s certain he would be making obscene noises. Instead he just shuts his mouth, the tendons in his neck strained and prominent, brows drawn together and teeth sinking into one side of his cheek.

Dark eyes meet pallid grey, and Jim has to pull back to make some sort of clever comment, because it’s barely an encounter with Jim if he’s quiet (it’s more like an encounter with a monster when he is, Sebastian’s not sure if he finds Jim speaking in rhyme with trills scarier than those _quiet_ points in time). 

“I do hope I didn’t interrupt you by the way _darling_ ,” Jim says offhandedly, tongue dragging from base to tip, lips making a tight seal around the flesh, making obscene slurping sounds that were all too loud in the corridor.

Still, Sebastian manages to shake his head, lungs sucking in a shaky breath as he composes himself for a suitable retort. “No, not really—it was all a little boring. I’d much rather see you on your knees.” His lips kink up into a smirk, and there is an absolute flash of defiance in Jim’s eyes, a jolt of pain shooting through the blond’s body which nearly causes him to double over, the width of his cock being bitten down on with unnecessary force. 

“Fuck, Jim, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, one hand pushing at the other boy’s shoulder, unwilling to go through with more of that treatment (nips here and there were fine, but a bite was a different thing altogether, Sebastian is not happy, and suddenly on his knees is the most dangerous position Jim could possibly be in). 

Jim laughs though, laughs and takes one of Sebastian’s large hands into his own, settling it on the back of his neck and keeping it covered, fingers stroking over his knuckles, affectionately. “Oh, I’m sorry Sebby,” he purrs, “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive.”

And when Jim opens his mouth again, Sebastian realizes the placed hand is an offer to fuck his face, and he doesn’t pass it up. Keeping a steady grip, Sebastian rolls and ruts his hips against Jim’s mouth; breath quickening (this is almost better than Jim willingly giving him a blow job, control is very limited in the older boy’s side of the relationship). 

It doesn’t take long, really, all things accounted for. When Sebastian groans, Jim pulls back with a smirk, and he’s vaguely aware that the other boy must have been doing some _calculations_ or god knows what in his head to know just when to expect his come, and the blond doesn’t have the heart (or kindness) to point out the small droplet making its way down Jim’s chin until he wipes it away himself. 

Standing back onto his knees with a slightly uncomfortable stretch of his legs, Jim tucks Sebastian back into his pants and gives his crotch two pats, their lips touching briefly (almost romantically, except Jim and romance were like water and oil) as the dark haired boy spins around, wriggling his fingers in the air. He manages two steps before Sebastian recovers enough to speak.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, almost incredulous as he recovered his breath, pushing himself off the wall and catching up to Jim easily, legs far longer—he barely had to challenge the other’s speed. 

Jim whirls on the ball of his foot, raising both hands into the air and shrugging. “I have to work darling,” he informs, leaning against a corner, which rounded into another roped off section of the house-- If Sebastian had to guess, it would be a private sitting room, probably with doors out into the garden. 

Of course he had planned the whole thing. Bastard. 

“Well, fuck off then.”

“Language, language,” Jim tutts, snagging Sebastian by the arm and bringing him close, hand sliding under his jaw, thumb caressing his bottom lip as his voice dropped, accent thickening with the rumbling tone, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t having fun without me, I’d be ever so upset…”

Unsettling. That’s what that tone was. Sebastian shakes his head however and gives the other boy a push toward the way he supposes the exit is. “I couldn’t have fun at this party _with_ you, now get out.”

Jim just giggles, presses a kiss on top of his own thumb (though it is still covering Sebastian’s lips) and leaves with a flourish, faux leather shoes making no sound on the carpet.

Needless to say, for the rest of the party Sebastian has some rather interesting thoughts.


End file.
